she warms her hands.

In the doorway appear the figures of two men. The first is
rather short and slight, with a soft short beard, bright soft
eyes, and a crumply face. Under his squash hat his hair is
rather plentiful and rather grey. He wears an old brown ulster
and woollen gloves, and is puffing at a hand-made cigarette. He
is ANN'S father, WELLWYN, the artist. His companion is a
well-wrapped clergyman of medium height and stoutish build, with
a pleasant, rosy face, rather shining eyes, and rather chubby
clean-shaped lips; in appearance, indeed, a grown-up boy. He is
the Vicar of the parish--CANON BERTLEY.

BERTLEY. My dear Wellwyn, the whole question of reform is full of
difficulty. When you have two men like Professor Calway and Sir
Thomas Hoxton taking diametrically opposite points of view, as we've
seen to-night, I confess, I----

WELLWYN. Come in, Vicar, and have some grog.

BERTLEY. Not to-night, thanks! Christmas tomorrow! Great
temptation, though, this room! Goodnight, Wellwyn; good-night, Ann!

ANN. [Coming from the fire towards the tea-table.] Good-night,
Canon Bertley.

[He goes out, and WELLWYN, shutting the door after him,
approaches the fire.]

ANN. [Sitting on the little stool, with her back to the fire, and
making tea.] Daddy!

WELLWYN. My dear?

ANN. You say you liked Professor Calway's lecture. Is it going to
do you any good, that's the question?

WELLWYN. I--I hope so, Ann.

ANN. I took you on purpose. Your charity's getting simply awful.
Those two this morning cleared out all my housekeeping money.

WELLWYN. Um! Um! I quite understand your feeling.

ANN. They both had your card, so I couldn't refuse--didn't know what
you'd said to them. Why don't you make it a rule never to give your
card to anyone except really decent people, and--picture dealers, of
course.

WELLWYN. My dear, I have--often.

ANN. Then why don't you keep it? It's a frightful habit. You are
naughty, Daddy. One of these days you'll get yourself into most
fearful complications.

WELLWYN. My dear, when they--when they look at you?

ANN. You know the house wants all sorts of things. Why do you speak
to them at all?

WELLWYN. I don't--they speak to me.

[He takes of his ulster and hangs it over the back of an
arm-chair.]

ANN. They see you coming. Anybody can see you coming, Daddy.
That's why you o